


someday I'll take you there

by Addison R (beyond_belief)



Category: Stoker (2013)
Genre: F/M, Incest, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 08:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyond_belief/pseuds/Addison%20R
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five things that didn't happen in the movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	someday I'll take you there

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wishfulclicking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishfulclicking/gifts).



> Wishfulclicking, here are a few what-ifs for you. :-)

1.

They ask if she'd like to come with, on their afternoon ice cream excursion. 

India toys briefly with the idea of saying no. She'd have the house to herself (Mrs. McGarrick still hasn't come), the piano to play (whatever sad song she likes), beds to laze about in (her own, her mother's, Charlie's), things to explore (Charlie's suitcase, the tennis court again).

Weighing this all and despite it, she says yes. The wind whips through everyone's hair as Charlie drives. Evie smiles and tips her face to the sun, an expression crossing her face that India hasn't seen in years. 

From the back seat, she studies Charlie's profile, until he glances over his shoulder and catches her looking. He winks.

 

2.

"I'd like us to be friends," Charlie says.

Over the rim of the wineglass, with the scent thick in her nose, India answers, "Yes."

 

3.

"Stop, stop!" Whip is yelling. Screaming, even.

"Why should I?" she asks, kicking him again. Dirt flies over her shoe. "You weren't going to."

"India, please -" but she halts his words with her foot to his throat. Tears track down his cheeks.

Charlie's nodding, clear approval on his face. Everything smells like dirt, sweat, Whip's whimpering and choking terror, as India yanks the belt from around his ankles. She puts it around his neck instead, Charlie holds his feet, and after a few minutes, Whip makes no more noise.

"Beautiful," Charlie whispers in her ear. His hand slides up her dirty arm, strokes her hair away from her face. His palm is warm. The ache throbs again between her thighs. She tilts her head back, staring up, up at the night sky. 

 

4.

"Don't you want to speak French in France?" he asks Evie, twining his fingers through her flame-like hair where it waves back from her face. 

Tears slip down her cheeks. "What are you suggesting?"

"Come with me." He cups her jaw with both hands, kisses her softly. She tastes of red wine, a good year. "Pack a bag. We'll go tonight. India can have the house to herself for the summer."

She's contemplating it, he can tell. A month in Italy full of gelato and espresso. A month in France with all the wine they could drink. A month in Spain exploring the countryside. And last, perhaps, a grave in Portugal. He could come back alone and see what India had done with the place in their absence. He's sure it would be good.

Evie shivers against him. "You look so much like Richard, when he was your age."

_Richard._ A flash of red through his mind. But he says gently, "Thank you," just to feel Evie shiver again, her hands sliding down his back. He presses another kiss to her thin mouth, reaches around to find the zipper on her dress. 

As if on cue downstairs at the piano, India begins to play.

 

5.

Fifteen miles outside of town, the sounds of insects filling her ears, India turns to look at Charlie behind the wheel of the convertible and asks, "Do you think she'll miss me?" 

He pushes the sunglasses further up his nose and favors her with a dazzling smile. "Of course she'll miss you."

India remembers seeing him for the first time, standing on someone else's grave at her father's funeral. She toes off her shoes (the exquisite heels) and draws her legs up underneath her, not caring about the way her skirt slides in her lap. "What will we do?"

"See the world, for the first time. Together."

"Florence?"

"Florence. Reykjavik. Indonesia." He reaches over then, without hesitation, slides a hand across her knee. India looks down at his fingers crossing her skin, watches them climb higher, disappear beneath the hem of her skirt. 

"What do you think?" he asks. His eyes are still on the road.

India feels for the seat's lever, pulls and leans until she tips further back. Charlie's fingertips find the lace edge of her underwear and she thinks she can hear the rasp of cloth on skin. She lets her legs fall open and says, "I think you better not stop now."


End file.
